


Keep the Dark at Bay

by b0ba_f3rnz



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bruises, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28465116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b0ba_f3rnz/pseuds/b0ba_f3rnz
Summary: Another one-shot written for the medieval knight Martin/scholar Jon AU. this one was also inspired by a prompt from lovely-little-whumpee on tumblr, "Chains (do I even have to say anymore?)"Anyways, Jon gets sent to prison for Doing Science
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	Keep the Dark at Bay

**Author's Note:**

> cw: this fic is set in a prison (well, medieval castle dungeon) and contains mentions of severe bruising/other injuries

Martin hummed softly to himself as he entered the keep. The sun had begun its rapid descent, but if Martin was lucky he would be able climb the stairs to Jon’s chambers quickly, catching him just as the setting sun hit his face and cast his smallpox scars into sharp relief. The checkered shadows along Jon’s cheekbone entranced him. He smiled slightly at the thought of holding Jon close, his face pressed to Martin’s collarbone, mumbling the details of whatever research he had done that day, until- 

“Sir Martin?” 

Martin whirled around, torn from his musings. A servant boy stood behind him. 

“Yes?” 

“Lord Godfrey wishes to see you.” 

Martin could not stop the surprise from appearing on his face. What did Lord Godfrey want with him? He nodded to the servant boy, who scurried off.  
Martin glanced out the window. No sunset gilded moments tonight. He hoped Jon wouldn’t worry too much at his lateness. 

He veered left, sparing the stairs a mournful glance. The torches lining the halls to Lord Godfrey’s chambers were already lit, and although the sight was not unfamiliar, the light they cast put Martin ill at ease. Lord Godfrey’s door was ajar, and Martin peered around the edge to see Lord Godfrey standing with his back to the door. A chill ran through Martin.

“My liege.” Martin said, entering the chamber and dropping to one knee. “You wished to see me?” 

“Rise, Martin.” 

Martin stood up, attempting to steady himself. Lord Godfrey turned to face him. 

“I called for you because you are to be given a new assignment.”

“Assignment? A-am I to be sent away, sir?” Martin asked, unable to keep his hand from tightening around the hem of his tunic. Leaving the castle for some far away land was not a thought that appealed to him, saying nothing of the idea of leaving Jon. Would he even be able to tell him before he left? 

Lord Godfrey chuckled. “No, no. This assignment should keep you very close to the castle indeed. It is a security assignment." He picked up the rosary beads on the windowsill, running the polished wood through his fingers.  
“Security?” Martin asked. “Are we expecting important visitors?”   
Lord Godfrey’s brow furrowed. “Nothing of the sort. I am told you are on good terms with the alchemist I have hired.”   
“Jon?”   
“Is that the name you know him by?” Lord Godfrey's tone was light but careful, like walking on ice.

“We are...friendly, yes,” Martin said, after far too long. 

“Good.” Lord Godfrey said. He looked up from his beads, the severity in his gaze making Martin flinch. “He has gone too far, Martin. His experiments…” He turned away, but the mutter of “blasphemy” carried through the quiet chamber.

Martin's limbs seemed to have frozen in place, the entire world grinding to a halt around him.

“And... what does that mean for my assignment?” He asked. His nerves felt like pulled bowstrings as he fought to keep his composure.

“I have placed him in the castle dungeons. You, Martin, are to be his primary guard.”

“Me?” Martin choked out before he could stop himself. Lord Godfrey looked at him coldly.

“Yes, you. You are well acquainted with his habits, and so it is you whom I trust with the task of keeping him contained.” 

If he hadn’t been so consumed by panic, Martin would have laughed at that. Containing Jon was as simple as placing a board across the door. 

“May I- er, shall I report to the dungeons now, my liege?” Martin asked. “To ensure the security of the prisoner, that is.” 

Lord Godfrey smiled. “Dutiful as always. You will find two other guards at your disposal.” 

“Thank you, my liege.” Martin said. “Er- how long is this...assignment to last?” 

Lord Godfrey’s expression turned cold again. “As long as is required.” He turned away. “Attend to your duties, Sir Martin.”

Martin felt the blood rushing in his ears as he tore down the steps to the dungeons. “Oh Jon, what have you done?” He muttered. He was sure it could not have been anything nearly as bad as Lord Godfrey’s accusations, but, well, what if it was? He shook the thought from his mind. Jon was in trouble, and it had to be some sort of miracle that Martin was the one chosen to protect- well, to guard him. Martin stopped on the landing, half to catch his breath and half to cross himself surreptitiously before continuing his descent. 

The castle grew colder, the walls slick with moisture and occasional rot. In another small miracle, the torches along the wall had been lit all the way down to the dungeons. Martin slowed to what he hoped was a dignified walk as he approached the bottom of the stairs. 

He did not have to travel far to find Jon’s cell. The two guards that Martin assumed were under his command stood in front of the heavy wooden door, both bearing torches of their own.

“Sir Martin.” One of them nodded in his direction. 

Martin drew himself up to his full height. He did not know what he would find inside the cell, but he did know two things. He knew exactly what Lord Godfrey had meant by “as long as is required,” and he knew that he had no intention of letting that happen. He looked at the guards. 

“You are dismissed.” 

“Sir, Lord Godfrey said-”

“Lord Godfrey placed you under my command. And I say you are dismissed.” He rested his hand on the knife in his belt, watching the guards’ eyes follow it. “Is that clear?” 

The first guard nodded. 

“Your torch and your keys.” Martin said, holding out his hand. He watched the guards begin to climb the stairs, the light of their one remaining torch slowly disappearing. And then he jammed the key into the keyhole, feeling panic overtake him. 

Martin would not have known that the figure in the cell was Jon if he were not familiar with every one of his features. He could not stifle the cry that escaped from him.

“Oh, _Jon._ ” He said, dropping to his knees. 

Jon’s eyes opened, or rather they opened as far as they could through the patchwork of bruises. Martin saw recognition flash in them. 

“Martin?”

“Hush.” Martin said, shoving the key into Jon’s shackles. “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

A pained noise made him look up. 

“Martin-” Jon choked out, his voice slurred. “I-”

“Jon.” Martin said, sharply. “Whatever it is, it can wait until I’ve got these off you.” He undid the last of Jon’s shackles, grimacing at the bruises encircling his wrists and ankles. Gently, he lifted Jon from where he had been chained to the wall, folding him into his lap. Jon tensed.

“Am I hurting you?” Martin asked, quietly. 

“Martin, whatever Lord Godfrey told you, it wasn’t- I promise, I didn’t-”

Martin’s breath caught. “I- I believe you, Jon. I know you wouldn’t do anything horrible, and,” He sighed. “Even if you did. I’d still help you.” 

Jon’s chest shook against his, and he felt tears leaking into his sleeve. 

“Hey,” Martin whispered. “I’m here now, I’m not going to let them hurt you any more.” He pulled away. “Lord Godfrey placed you under my guard. You’re safe with me.” 

Jon wiped his eyes with his sleeve, wincing as he did so. 

“Could you- is there any chance-” He glanced around the cell. Martin sighed.

“Tomorrow. I’ll plead your case to Lord Godfrey then, I’ll tell him you were...repentant. Despite everything, I do think his lordship trusts me enough to at least listen to me.” 

“Thank you.” Jon said, so softly Martin had to strain to hear it. 

“Let’s have a look at you.” Martin said, reaching for Jon’s arm. Jon laid his hand palm-up in Martin’s. Martin held his hand flat, careful not to touch the bruises blossoming along his skin. His eyes scanned up Jon’s arm, stopping abruptly at the splotch of red on his sleeve. 

“Oh dear.” He said, softly. He reached into the pocket hung on his belt, fishing for the kerchief Lady Eleanor had given him. He pulled it out, then reached for Jon’s sleeve. He hesitated before touching it, looking up at Jon. 

He nodded. Martin pushed up his sleeve, revealing a gash along his arm. 

“What happened?” He asked, before he could stop himself. Jon looked away.

“Yeah.” Martin said, looping the kerchief around Jon’s arm. “I know.” 

He tied it off, shifting his gaze further up Jon’s neck and face. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere else, but it hardly made a difference with how badly he was bruised. 

He skimmed his thumb along Jon’s cheekbone, finding a patch of skin which appeared to be free of bruises, at least in the low light of the torch. It wasn’t all that dissimilar to the light of the sunset, Martin thought ruefully. His thumb bumped on a pit in Jon’s skin and he left it there, sweeping it gently back and forth. Jon sighed, his head dropping to fit into Martin’s palm. 

“It can’t be comfortable, sitting like that with all those bruises.” Martin said. He shifted so he sat against the wall, pulling Jon close. His head rested against Martin’s collarbone. 

“Are you going to leave?” Jon asked, his voice small. 

“No.” Martin said. “I’ll stay until the morning, and then I’ll go visit Lord Godfrey.” 

Jon pushed away from Martin. A grimace flashed across his face at the movement, but it was replaced as he looked up at Martin.

“You should be made a saint, you know.” 

Martin laughed. “There’s already a Saint Martin.” 

“And I’m looking at him.” 

Jon was looking at Martin, the torchlight reflecting in his too-serious eyes. 

Martin smiled, pulling Jon to his side again. “You should get some sleep.” 

Jon curled into his side. Martin carefully pushed his hair from his forehead, hoping to find another patch of unbruised skin. He did, and kissed it. 

“Saint.” He heard Jon mutter as he leaned back against the wall. 

Tomorrow, he would seek an audience with Lord Godfrey, and pray that his request would be heard. But tonight, there was no need for words. Everything that needed to be said was curled up beside him, sleeping at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's been so long since my last upload! I'm not entirely satisfied with this fic, but I just wanted to get something out there. I really enjoy doing these medieval oneshots, so while i can't promise a regular upload schedule there will be more in the future! I hope you all enjoyed this one, and thank you for reading!


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